Oh father dear I often hear you speak of Erin's IsleHer lofty scenes, her valley's green, her mountains rude and wildThey say it is a lovely land wherein a prince might dwellOh why did you abandon it the reason to me tell

Oh well do I remember that bleak december dayThe landlord and the sheriff came to drive us all awayHe set my roof on fire, when my rent I could not findAnd that's the cruel reason that I left it all behind

Your mother too, god rest her soul, she fell on snowy groundShe could not raise her body, seeing desolation aroundShe never rose but slipped away from life to mortal dreamAnd found a quiet grave my boy in dear old skibbereen

And you were only two years old and feeble was your frameI could not leave you with my friends, you bore your father's nameI wrapped you in my cottamore, in the dead of night unseenI heaved a sigh, and bade goodbye to dear old skibbereen

Oh father the day may come in answer to the callEach irishmen with feeling stern will rally one and allI'll be the man to lead the van beneath our flag of greenAnd loud and high we'll raise a cry remember skibereen